Page 35 of The Wildest One
I closed my eyes and sighed.
I’d watched every second of this game, even the intermissions. Although it wasn’t really the game I was focused on; it was Beck. He was in the first line, and my stare didn’t leave him whenever he was on the ice. And if he wasn’t, I tried to catch a glimpse of him on the bench.
The way he looked in his uniform—God. I could see hints of his beard through his navy-and-silver mask and those hazel eyes every time the camera zoomed in on him.
“Jolie? Are you even listening to me?”
I was staring at the screen. The clock was running out. Beck was no longer playing because LA had such a big lead, and the third and fourth lines were in.
I gradually glanced over at her. “No.”
“I’m begging you—let’s go.”
I shook my head. “The press conference will be coming on in a couple of minutes. I have to see it. He was the top-scoring player in the game, I know they’re going to interview him.”
She grabbed something on my bed and stood, backing up several paces toward her side of the room. “I’ll make a deal with you.” She waved the TV remote in her hand. “I won’t shut the TV off and throw the remote out of the window if you promise to get dressed the second the press conference is over and come out with me.”
The scowl was heavy on my face. “You wouldn’t.”
She went over to the window. “We both know there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you—and letting you mope in this room is not going to happen on my watch. So, yes, I would toss this sucker out the window.” She cranked the semi-broken old latch, and I felt an immediate breeze as the window pane opened a crack. “Remember, I’m doing this for you.” When I didn’t answer, she said, “I don’t want you hurting—and I know you are.”
“But I shouldn’t be hurting.” My voice was getting quieter with each word. “It was three nights. That’s nothing. That’s like a long weekend at best. So, why do I feel like this?”
She closed the window, leaving the remote on her desk, and she rushed over, putting her arm around my shoulders. “People have fallen in love in much shorter time frames. Trust me, it’s possible.”
I lowered the sweatshirt from my face and set it on my lap.
Every breath of his spiciness made me miss him more, causing my brain to spiral.
One day, probably soon, his scent would fade, and the only thing I’d have left was watching his games. Yet he’d have many more overnighters in cities across the country, where he’d probably spend those evenings with someone else.
I heard the rumors. I knew how things worked when it came to single professional athletes.
I wasn’t stupid enough to think this was the first time Beck had done this or that it would be his last.
It didn’t matter if we’d had the most amazing time.
I was replaceable.
And that made me ache harder. It made my stomach turn. It made the knot in my chest move into the back of my throat.
“Jolie, you’re in your head. I can see those wheels spinning. Don’t do it, don’t dwell on it, don’t try to make sense out of it. It will keep you in your feelings, and that’s not where you need to be right now.”
I left the screen to look at her and say, “We just had so much fun together.”
She gently nodded. “I know.”
“And I knew I’d feel like shit after he left—I’d tried to prep myself for it. Maybe that should have stopped me from carrying on through the whole three nights, but …” Flashes of our time together were filling my vision. The way he had held my hand when we walked to the boat. The way he had hugged me whenever I was cold. The way he’d looked at me—each time, not one single time. “I just didn’t want it to end.”
She rubbed the middle of my back. “Based on the note he left, I’m positive he felt the same way.”
I wasn’t going to cry.
I couldn’t.
Getting emotional over this wasn’t going to help the situation. It wouldn’t make me feel better. And it wouldn’t bring Beck back.
I had known what I was signing up for when I told him I’d leave the bar with him.
